


Instinct and Heart

by Vera_dAuriac



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Missing Scene, Nostalgia, Rutting, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 23:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18418439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: Desperate to uncover the identity of the Man in the Iron Mask, Louis and Philippe head off together, and their night under the stars brings back strong memories. A missing scene for Season 3 Episode 7.





	Instinct and Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 just finally popped up on Netflix, and I finished it last night. I might not have loved it, but I still love Louis and Philippe. 
> 
> I don’t own these folks, which is obvious, because I would have made very different choices.

**By Vera d’Auriac**

Instinct and heart. Louis always knew how best to get at him, to worm his way into Philippe’s soul. After the years of love and fights, help and plotting, Philippe should no longer be surprised by Louis, and yet he so often was. Instinct and heart.

“Do you remember the last time we slept out like this?” Louis asked after a long silence during which Philippe contented himself feeling warm, staring up at the stars. “We were not far from Versailles.”

Philippe smiled. “We convinced mother you needed more practice camping like your soldiers. She tried to tell you a king need never live like his soldiers, but you were so insistent. So we went to the overlook at the gorge and built a fire with only a little help from our guards, who we then sent away.” Philippe glanced over his shoulder once more to see how far away the Musketeers had made their camp. They could see one another, and hear if called, but they had quite a bit of privacy, a luxury he and Louis so rarely experienced. “And we stayed there together all night, even though it got so cold.”

“But it was warmer when you brought your bedroll over to join mine, just as we had always done.”

Unable to face Louis directly, Philippe peeked at his brother from the corner of his eye. They had, in fact, usually ended up with their bedrolls combined when they camped as boys. And even though they had been cold on the last night in question, heat did not necessarily have anything to do with their sleeping arrangement. When they were small, they slept close so Philippe might offer comfort when Louis grew afraid of the dark, but as they got older and Louis less afraid, they still made their beds together, at first out of habit, but then at a certain age, for another reason. _Don’t think about that now. Don’t think about that ever again_.

“Why do you not bring your bedroll over to join mine now?” Louis asked.

Philippe swallowed and tried to look at Louis, who stared shamelessly across the fire at him, but Philippe could not meet his gaze. “The night is plenty warm.”

“What if I told you I was still afraid of the dark?”

“I would call you a liar.”

“You know my life is complicated, and true affection difficult for me. I long for the presence of a kind body near my own. Surely you understand.”

“We cannot do this with Musketeers camped sixty feet away,” Philippe hissed, unable to believe his brother would suggest such a course of action. And yet, he knew precisely how Louis felt—he was impossibly lonely himself, unable to return to his beloved Chevalier or the welcoming, but feminine, arms of his wife. He and Louis had not touched each other in any way brothers ought not since they were young teenagers, awkward boys who did not understand their bodies and urges, desperate to find release for overwhelming sensations so new and inexplicable.

 _All we knew was that when we were together, we felt warm and good when our flesh finally touched. God, how I long for that feeling now!_ _But so much has changed. We’re grown men and we know what drives our passions. We know how we might be satisfied, and we both have the means of finding it one way or another whenever we demand it. If we demand it. I never liked it on those terms, and now I cannot stomach the thought_.

The days of awkward fumblings were behind them, being the pertinent point, Philippe knew. And yet Louis’s inviting gaze, the memory of how their bodies used to fit together…. Would they fit still? After not having thought of this in years, Philippe suddenly longed to know.

“Come lay next to me, brother,” Louis commanded in his sweetest tones. “Come whisper into my ear so that no one else may hear and I can feel your breath on my neck.”

Something broke within Philippe, and he knew not what it was except that it was the final piece keeping him on his side of the fire. Without it, he had no choice but to begin gathering his bedding and dragging it to his brother’s side. The flames danced across Louis’s features as he watched Philippe reposition himself, finally helping to pull the ground cloth a fraction closer just before Philippe lay down. Louis smiled down at him, and the curve of his lips started with the wicked grin of the king who has gotten his way before softening into the pleased expression of a brother.

“Well,” Philippe said, stretched out on his side, head propped up on his hand. “Here I am. You said something about whispering in your ear, though, and I have no intention of sitting up.”

The mischievous smirk Louis had flashed at Philippe so often in the course of their lives now twitched over his lips. “Very well. I would like to have my blanket spread over me, now that you mention it.”

“I’ve no doubt you would,” Philippe muttered, shifting his own blanket so that it might overlap with Louis’s allowing them to be joined in the same space beneath.

Soon Louis had settled in under the blankets and mirrored Philippe’s position, stretched out on his side facing Philippe, head held up by hand. Philippe looked at his brother’s magnificent blue eyes, always so mesmerizing to him, even when they were cold and trying to push him away. _Perhaps_ most _when he tried to push me away?_ Those eyes held Philippe’s now, until Philippe couldn’t breathe and he had to let them flicker away. But his gaze landed on Louis’s lips, and while he did not move, he could feel his breaths come faster and his heart race. _You knew what would happen when you moved over here. You knew, and you came anyway, because you want it. You miss the feel of another’s flesh. You miss your brother. All your problems are just waiting to be solved_.

“It has been too long, brother.”

Philippe tried to chuckle, but the sound nearly strangled him. “Too long since what?”

“Too long since we could be alone, out under the stars, searching for Castor and Pollux.”

“They were the ideal brothers.”

“Pollux gave half of his life for Castor.”

“It’s what brothers do, is it not?”

Philippe did not feel or sense Louis move, so it was without warning that Louis’s fingers gripped the lacing on his breeches and tugged. “It is what all true brothers would do.”

The whole world seemed caught in Philippe’s throat, and he could not speak. They were going to possibly find a man who might be their brother, who might make a claim to the throne that Louis had sat upon since he was four, so Louis’s words were not idle. _He thinks of me as a true brother. And he is mine. He will always be the truest and first in my heart, and whatever we may discover tomorrow, nothing shall separate us_.

“Brother, are you sure?” Philippe forced through his lips with effort when the backs of Louis’s fingers grazed the erection he had been trying to ignore. “We should not. Before, we were young. We did not know better, but we do now. And the risk.”

“Do you remember how beautiful it was the summer we spent in Picardy?” Louis asked, never pausing in his task to open Philippe’s breeches.

God! Did Philippe remember? He would never forget how they would sneak away from their mother and Cardinal Mazarin at every opportunity to either frolic in the fields or read books that had been deemed unsuitable. Or to sleep in the open, fresh air, far away from prying eyes, ears, and noses they did not want in their business. It had been the first time they had found themselves excited while they lay beside one another. They had touched each other, panting, pulling, rubbing, screaming, not understanding what was happening or why it felt so good. But that summer, they ran away together whenever they could in order to relive that new and exciting feeling.

But here and now, on their way to find a man who Philippe had nearly been killed to prevent meeting, Louis had his hand on Philippe’s stomach, and it was moving lower. _We shouldn’t_. “Louis, I….”

 Louis’s hand wrapped around Philippe’s hard prick, and he could only moan, not protest.

“I see you do remember,” Louis whispered into Philippe’s ear, and it was _his_ hot breath on Philippe’s neck, not the other way around.

“How could I forget?” Philippe said in a gasp. His forehead fell against Louis’s as his hands went to his brother’s waistband, the instinct Louis had praised earlier taking over. “I could never forget.”

“We shall be as we once were, long ago as boys,” Louis whispered against Philippe’s lips while his hands pushed Philippe’s breeches and underclothes down until they met resistance and Philippe shifted his hips up to allow his erection to spring free. Louis once more wrapped a hand around Philippe. “I’ve never known joy like what I found with you when we were young.”

Philippe tilted his chin closer to Louis, their lips brushing but not yet formally kissing, even though they exchanged breaths. “I felt so alive when I was with you then.” _And I’ve never felt so alive since but for on the battlefield, and we won’t muddle tonight with thoughts of that_. “Do you think we can still make each other feel that way?” At that point, Philippe pushed down Louis’s waistbands and he immediately shifted to help, and thank God he did, because Philippe needed the feel of his aching prick on Louis’s flesh. They had never gone beyond flesh and hands, and that was all he needed or wanted now. He wanted his childhood back, when he knew who his family was, when he understood where he belonged in the world—his mother’s little girl who mattered not as much as Louis. Except, he _did_ matter to Louis, with whom he need not be a little girl. He did not know that he was a little boy, either, for that matter, but he was definitely Philippe, and Louis loved Philippe, and that was more than enough.

They kissed, any answer Louis might have been contemplating to Philippe’s question lost in this demonstration of their love. And with both their pricks free and enough skin exposed for the sensation they craved, they came together.

The most noticeable change since they were boys was that they now both knew how to find pleasure. Rather than writhing aimlessly, hoping for the best, they both knew what they needed to find the necessary friction, and as one, they both slipped and arm over the other’s hip and grabbed the other’s behind in order to force their bodies closer together. Their pricks still slotted precisely into the hollow of the other’s body where leg met torso. It felt like a homecoming, and they both moaned into the other’s mouth.

The feeling, Philippe had no question, could not be better. Their frantic rubbing and panting made his head spin, and somehow he was both a boy again and a grown man, Louis’s brother and his lover, an innocent and a depraved. But whatever he was, he knew this was right, for they were clearly designed for this purpose, designed for each other.

“Brother.”

“Oh God, it feels so perfect.”

And just when Philippe believed it could not feel better, when he had settled in, to ride this wave of coming bliss, Louis push him over onto his back. In this position, he could get better leverage and they had use of all their hands. Louis dug his left into Philippe’s hip and stroked hair from Philippe’s brow with the right. Philippe had better use of both of his, and one clutched tight at the back of Louis’s neck so that his mouth could not escape while his other pressed on Louis’s lower back to ensure his prick continued trapped between them.

“I would remain forever with you like this. Let the Vatican and anyone else do as they dare.”

“You would stay with me?”

Philippe realized Louis’s hot breath poured words onto his throat in response to his own. _Did I really say I would stay like this with him forever? I think I did. And I would. God knows, he doesn’t always make it easy, but I would. Especially like this_. “Always Louis. Fuck,” he said as his hips jerked awkwardly of their own accord, his crisis nearly arrived. “Fuck. Yes. I would, Louis. I would always stay with you.”

They kissed and bit and groaned into the other’s body to dampen the sound of their desire from carrying through the night air. “Yes, brother. You are mine. Always mine. We…oh God. Philippe.”

Philippe swallowed Louis’s cry of pleasure as he spent in great gushes on Philippe’s abdomen. The way Louis trembled in his arms sent Philippe over the edge as much as anything, and a moment later, his own climax struck. It blinded him, every inch of his body tingling, both warm and cold, numb and impossibly sensitive. He finished, bleary-eyed and sweaty, his forehead once more leaning against Louis’s and he panted into his brother’s mouth.

“We still fit,” Louis whispered, his lips placing soft kisses along Philippe’s neck.

“We cannot escape each other.”

Louis tilted his chin up so that he might looked at Philippe more directly. “Do you wish to escape me?”

Philippe gave him a rueful smile. “We both know that I have in the past, and I will most likely try again at some point in the future, even if I am doomed to fail. But at this moment, escape is the last thing I desire.” Philippe lightly kissed his brother. “What about you? What do you desire, brother?”

“I _do_ desire escape. To run back to our summer in Picardy, when all we had was each other, and that was all we needed.”

Louis’s countenance turned so sad during this speech, Philippe could not help but to kiss him at the end of it. “You and I can escape to Picardy anytime you want. You need only ask.”

“You would forego your wide bed at Versailles to sleep under the sky with me once again?”

Philippe grinned a bit now, and he thought he could discern Louis’s eyes twinkling in the firelight. “We did so often enough as boys. I don’t see why we should not now. I mean, yes, the people at court will find us a bit mad, but they have always found me, well, unstable, and you are king. You may do as you wish.”

“What if we find out tomorrow that I am not king?”

 _Excellent question. And one I do not want to think about at this moment. Besides, it’s not the important question_. “You will still be my brother, and I will still want to lie with you next to a fire under the open sky. I will want that until the day I die.”

Louis kissed him deeply, and Philippe lost his fingers in the tumble of Louis’s hair. Their spend was cooling on their flesh, smearing between their bodies still pressed together, but neither of them cared at this moment. It was another memory of childhood when they laughed at the best ways to clean it up without leaving behind any traces for the laundress, who was undoubtedly a spy for their mother. It was just like when they were boys, only better because their feelings had only deepened over the years, while also being a touch less, because innocent fumbling held a once in a lifetime charm. But Philippe loved what they had now, and he knew Louis did as well, even if they might never actually have any of it again.


End file.
